


you must believe in spring

by pistolgrip



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Somewhat Sentient Plants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 05:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12742065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolgrip/pseuds/pistolgrip
Summary: He doesn’t have much colour to miss in the first place when the hologram of Tewath first blooms in the space between them—he’s a little breathless, sure, because there’s so much colour that it’s hard not to be impressed. But it’s kind of like a Pollock, he figures, because he just doesn’t get it. Everyone’s seeing a little bit of home in this planet, and for that Keith feels some sort of tug, but he just can’t parse the colours.





	you must believe in spring

**Author's Note:**

> me to noelle: yeah let's do christmas sprints! i'm picking the mistletoe prompt  
> me: writes whatever the fuck this is
> 
> title because i was feeling very bill evans-y (but i always feel bill evans-y)

Keith’s used to just one or two colours in his life. The desert expanse is shades of orange and brown, dotted with life and capped with the second deepest blue he’ll ever know of. The Garrison was always overcast, gray walls floating around dusty uniforms. And even space now is nothing but the absence of colour, freckles of stars within the void.

(He always sees red.)  
  
So he doesn’t have much colour to miss in the first place when the hologram of Tewath first blooms in the space between them—he’s a little breathless, sure, because there’s so much colour that it’s hard not to be impressed. But it’s kind of like a Pollock, he figures, because he just doesn’t get it. Everyone’s seeing a little bit of home in this planet, and for that Keith feels some sort of tug, but he just can’t parse the colours.  
  
Everyone’s a little speechless, and then everyone has their own questions. Keith lets the mission details and other eccentricities of the planet float above him, picking up tidbits of what he should and should not be doing. He’s scanning the hologram for any clues about the terrain, its people, the wildlife—where looks safe to land, where to take off when things go wrong. Things like that.  
  
Allura’s voice is a touch more enthusiastic than usual, he notes. "The planet's inhabitants are harmless, but its foliage may be more mischievous."  
  
"I don't like the sound of that," Hunk mutters, even as Pidge's eyes light up behind their glasses. "I don't like the sound of that at all."  
  
"Mischievous, Hunk, not harmful. Think of them as... poltergeists."  
  
"Poltergeists are _bad_ , Allura, they push people down stairs and throw things," he says, but he resigns. Pidge starts rapid-firing questions and Keith drags a hand over his face as he turns his attention to the holograph planet floating between all of them.  
  
Through the translucency, he can see Shiro pointing things out with Hunk and Coran, Pidge and Allura talking animatedly about the flora and fauna of Tewath, and Lance—  
  
Lance, he finds, is silent, looking up at the planet, mouth slightly open, and Keith has half a mind to make some jab about how dumb he looks with his mouth hanging open to break him out of whatever trance he’s in. But it feels wrong to shatter the moment, so instead he stands up as quietly as he can and drops next to Lance, leaning back and draping an arm over the back of the seat.  
  
The action doesn’t go unnoticed; Lance spares him a glance and emotions flicker across his face, too fast for his unpracticed eye, and then he sighs. “So, Keith, you believe in ghosts?”  
  
It’s not the conversation he expects, but he’s long since accepted the fact that Lance is unpredictable in many of the avenues that Keith is not, so he resists the urge to throw his hands up in confusion. “What?”  
  
Doesn’t stop his response from being incredulous, though.  
  
“’Cause you’d have a field day if you did. You’re into the supernatural and stuff, right?” Lance says, wiggling his fingers. “Allura says these things are like poltergeists.”  
  
“Okay, first of all, they’re _like_ poltergeists. Doesn’t mean they’re _actually_ poltergeists. Second of all, yes, ghosts _are_ real, but it’s only interesting back on Earth. Way too much going on in space to be a non-believer.” He crosses his arms over his chest and Lance is looking at him like he’s suddenly understood something, the small smile creeping on his face like he’s caught Keith saying something he shouldn’t have.  
  
Keith feels his eyebrows furrow self-consciously, because it’s not anything Lance hasn’t heard before. Hell, it isn’t anything Lance hasn’t _made fun of_ before. And he’s still giving him this knowing smile, equal parts playful and something Keith doesn’t have a word for.  
  
“What?” He says, intelligently, for the second time in the last five minutes.  
  
“Nothing.” It’s more an exhale of contentment than it is an answer, as Lance stretches back onto the couch. “Just realized something.”  
  
And, because Keith is a master at words, he asks again: “...What?”  
  
Lance waves a hand dismissively just as Allura turns everyone’s attention to the planet’s surface, approaching steadily, colours palpable through the glass of the castleship, leaving Keith feeling as though he’d missed out on something very important.

* * *

 "Mischievous, my ass," Keith mutters darkly, trying his best not to harm the foliage of the planet. The inhabitants allow the plant life to grow freely and thickly, and only living in places where the plants allow them to. It’s kind of a passive lifestyle for Keith, who’s always preferred striking down his own way, but from what he understands the people are more or less acting as a proxy for the plant life, who are the real hotshots of the planet.  
  
In any case, the paladins arrive on a rare occasion; a few cycles before the one occurrence in Tewath’s orbit where all three of its suns are in sync, and the planet is engulfed in a darkness for a few cycles more. Keith's sure it's beautiful, in the way people always say sunsets are, and so three of them at a time must be a hell of a thing.  
  
Except he and Lance have gotten sidetracked that day in their collection of samples for the people of the planet; turns out, everyone except the two of them have some sort of experience with plant identification, leaving them largely at a stubborn, angry loss.  
  
Hunk's with Pidge, who's practically got plants sprouting on top of them at all times on top of being the only one cleared by the people of Tewath to carry technology not native to the planet with them. Coran's with Shiro, and the former's got the weirdest collection of knowledge in the universe, Keith's sure. Allura is left behind, doing diplomatic work—although it's hardly needed at this point, it's more of a formality than anything.  
  
They have no technology except for what the Tewaths have allowed them, and by principle, they're goddamn space hippies. No concept of time, they say, allow the plants to guide you, they say, do not force the goddamn plants—  
  
Keith slashes—with a blunted stick, the closest thing to a weapon he's been allowed—at the plant that springs out at him both in frustration and surprise, and the next thing he knows, he's upside-down, dangling by his right ankle much higher in the air than expected.  
  
He's dropped the stick, and he growls. "Fuck's sake, at least do me the decency of hanging me by both ankles," he says, kicking desperately at the thick rope of foliage tangled around his ankle.  
  
It turns out that the plants here really do follow some code of honour, because another vine darts out and tangles itself around Keith's free leg, to the middle of his thigh.  
  
"Great. Thanks. Exactly what I needed," he snarls, and he starts struggling. The plants around him move with his exertion, the leaves crinkling together like tittering laughter. He wouldn't put it past these damn plants to actually have the capacity to laugh at him.  
  
He can feel the blood rushing to his head as he hangs uselessly, trying to find a way to maneuver in his situation. Having both of his ankles tied wouldn't be so bad, at least, but having one ankle and practically an entire leg out of commission changes things.  
  
But there's been worse. He's been in hairier situations, with captors that weren't afraid to hurt and bindings that intended to keep him in place. These plants? They're just _assholes_. And Keith is used to assholes in his life.  
  
He casually rears his left arm back, making it look like he's letting it dangle as a show of surrender, before striking down at the vines around his leg as hard as possible.  
  
Which the vines know about, because they retreat down his leg, and it leads to two things: one, Keith ends up hitting his own leg, bare skin nearly exposed from the scratches the vines made when circling his thigh. Two, the vines then spiral back up, effectively trapping Keith's hand against where it struck his leg.  
  
Keith wants to kick in frustration, or scream, or both. He can only do one at the moment, and he allows himself to cuss out the plants. Things like, _I could turn the entire planet into a desert, ain't no plants there_ and _the Tewaths are gonna have the finest meal they ever had when I'm through burning all of you—_  
  
He hears a rustle, and Keith immediately quiets. There shouldn't be any harmful creatures where they were sent, because the plants are normally cooperative enough to offer protection with reasonable use of resources. Still, Keith wonders how many of the planet's people have been in the delicate situation he hangs in _(ha.)_ now, and he wonders if he's about to be killed.  
  
Maybe he should have listened to the debrief closer. Maybe he should have observed which creatures were under harmful and which ones were under safe, maybe he should have worn thicker jeans that day, because his entire left leg and his right ankle are itching to high heaven.  
  
"Oh my _god."_  
  
Keith rolls his eyes, more out of habit these days than any sort of vitriol. It's a dance, a ritual, a farce of normalcy in a horizon where nothing ever changes. Keith knows that above all, he can trust Lance, and these months in space that have felt like decades has more than enough proof of that.  
  
Maybe he should kill Lance.  
  
"I'll fucking kill you, Lance, get me _down."_  
  
Lance, hands shoved in his pockets, whistles lowly. He circles Keith, as if appraising him, eyebrow quirked with amusement. The sunlight between the leaves casts playful shadows on his face. Keith scowls. "This is the least sexy bondage pose I could ever think of. Like, I know you guys are _just_ plants," he says, voice flighty, addressing the vines that hold Keith in place, "but at least be tasteful."  
  
"Great. Fantastic. I'm hanging from a space tree and being held hostage by space vines and the only person to witness this is the only person that won't let me live it down. Great. You happy, plants?"  
  
He looks up at (or down at—he looks towards) the vines that keep him in place, and notices with some surprise that the sky is no longer the nearly-blinding cyan it was when they first arrived, or the bright blue that was just wrong enough to not be Earth's when they were sent out to collect in the first place.  
  
The leaves above him fold in and away in a pattern as the suns approach the horizon, like pages of books left by an open window. The vines turn searing hot around his legs and he yelps, before they snake back into the tree, leaving a very disoriented Keith tumbling to the ground.  
  
His first instinct on coming into contact with something warm is to struggle, because fuck if the vines aren't going to get him again, but he hears a voice squawk and realizes the warmth around him is Lance attempting to catch him as he falls unceremoniously from the sky.  
  
And he opens his mouth to begin their dance once again, but Keith knows that there's something in his moment so easily shattered with words; one occurrence in a single orbit where all three of the suns set, and the plants are alive.  
  
It's a library of noise, where Keith feels knowledge as old as every iteration of the universe seep into his bones. The air around them sings; the ground beneath them is sturdy; the sky lights in natural fireworks as the light waves from the three suns scatter and mingle; he can taste the laughter bubbling from his throat, a natural staccato to match the leaves that dance circles around them.  
  
He leans his head back as he laughs, almost surprised that the back of his head meets resistance; he looks up and Lance's eyes are unfairly bright, lit up with all the fires around them right now—Lance's eyes are looking right back at him. It's almost silly to Keith, that they've never experienced anything like this in the universe and they probably never will, and Lance is looking at him instead of Tewath's parade of senses.  
  
He nearly voices it until Lance leans forward, brushing their cheeks together, and Keith can feel the smile dimpling against his own.  
  
Something about the entire situation is still funny, and he laughs again. Keith's never felt so light in his life, almost like he's floating; the trees around them are moving to swallow the suns and he feels their warmth kiss his skin, the glow of colours tangible between his fingers.  
  
"Y'know," Lance starts, and his voice is so close and yet not close enough at the same time. Keith sinks into the warmth and the world around them sings with exaltation. "This isn't bad."  
  
"Only 'not bad'?" he responds, incredulous, because while Keith isn't normally moved by nature, in this moment he's been moved, uprooted, suspended at the heart of the planet. Keith has never truly known moderation, and he can appreciate how much Tewath is putting into this spectacle, almost unnecessarily. Like the desert's flowers, he thinks, after a much needed rain, but this time it’s an entire planet bursting through the cracks.  
  
And then, Lance finishes. "Doesn't hold a candle to the way you look right now."  
  
Keith laughs, out of surprise and amusement—he wants say that it's ruined the moment, that the words out of his mouth toed the line between sacrilegious and too lame to work, but it’s a testament to the beauty of the planet that the scene before them hasn’t been ruined at all. Keith just groans and leans his head further back, to fully face the sky.  
  
"Do you use that line on everyone you see tied up in a forest helplessly?"  
  
"Just you," Lance quips, and it shouldn't be so endearing, but it is. Keith rolls his eyes. The world lights.  
  
His words blend with the scene, a lilting melody painting strokes with the suns. Trees are still surrounding them, but the horizon is visible through the cracks, where colour spills and lands over them, as if they were always meant to be painted these shades of blue and purple and red. "We're here for you, y'know," he whispers like a confession.  
  
And it's just like Lance to sidestep and distract before going in for the finishing blow, hasn't it? They have each other's backs, and that's precisely how Lance knows exactly where to strike him, Keith figures.  
  
He starts to say _yeah, I know_ —but the thing is, he doesn't, really. He's never been surrounded so closely by other people so consistently. He doesn't know how to make sense of the things that float through the connections when forming Voltron.  
  
He doesn't know how to parse all of the colours.  
  
So, he says, lamely: "I don't know. I don't exactly have a track record for keeping people in my life."  
  
He feels Lance shrug. "I got news for you. We're not just about to let you go. You think you've got a stubborn streak? You ain't seen nothing yet." His thumb twitches over Keith's arm where he knows there's a scar, obtained some time ago—in which Lance had said much the same thing, albeit with more desperation and anger and frustration and things Keith had always known to be directed at him, but not for Lance's reasons. Never for the reasons Lance had given.

He has never seen kindness behind anger before he became a paladin. Before Lance.  
  
The horizon swallows the suns whole, and Keith is rendered breathless once again. The trees are bioluminescent, and they reflect all the colours of the sunset, glowing and changing like the sky not so long ago.  
  
"They memorized it," Lance says, barely above a breath. "I mean, it _does_ only come once a year, or decade, or, whatever. But, yeah. Wow."  
  
Keith tilts his head—how long have they been in this position, anyway?—and whatever comment he has about Lance's eloquence disappears, because he thinks he can finally understand one of Lance's feelings so acutely that it knocks the wind out of him.  
  
Because it's this: Lance is still unreadable—the only emotion he can really pick out on his face right now is an immense fondness—but the colours of the muted sunset dance on him, lighting and shadowing and playing games that leave Keith scanning his face for answers.  
  
And then, he goes with this: "This isn't bad."  
  
Lance lights with laughter, immediately aware of what he's trying to do. "Keith, no."  
  
He skips the follow up line and presses his lips lightly to Lance's cheek, barely a brush and a hint of a smile.

* * *

One of Tewath's suns creeps over the edge once again, only a few hours since it first went down. There's still something that hangs in the air, even though they had long since untangled from each other and explored the landscape together, somehow _miraculously_ collecting the samples that they needed. Job well done with a cherry on top.  
  
"All I had to do was make fun of a tree being into bondage to get you to finally kiss me?"  
  
Keith pushes him into a tree on their way back. A branch smacks him on the back of the head in retaliation and he considers, not for the first time, that the plants on this planet are assholes.  
  
"And, also, technically, I cradled you in my arms, right?" Lance jabs, not discouraged in the slightest. Keith feels the tips of his ears grow hot.  
  
"Don't you dare say it."  
  
"It was a... _moment,_ wasn't it?"  
  
_"Lance."_  
  
The leaves rustle with the echo of his laughter, and Keith can't find it in himself to complain.

 

 

 


End file.
